The Songwriter's Funeral Song

XXIV: A Knight with a Knife of Words

The Songwriter's Funeral Song
A Knight with a Knife of Words

"Kumori-" Mugi called as she was driving the van. We were heading to her apartment after I made several persuasions. "About that song you've made... I already sang it to Kumo before he left."

"I see. Did he like it?" I asked. She nodded and put up a wide grin.

"It's funny how he reacted. He was so surprised," she chuckled. It's been days since she told me about the death of the two. I didn't receive any clear reasons for their sudden passing. Although, investigators are still studying the case. Murder-that's how Mugi reckoned it.

"If we go there by now, you'll find it boring." She couldn't stop convincing me about the worst of her apartment. I've already told her that I'll accept any flaws just to visit that place. I couldn't help to build suspicions. If she'll shove it any further, then the more I'll be determined to go.

"Is there any other reason why I should not go?"

Mugi pursed her lips as if she doesn't want to give any response. We're almost near the busy highway, and I wouldn't like to bother her now. Doing so might distract her from driving.

"There isn't. It's just... it's not a safe place now."

I looked at her and furrowed my brows. "But I'll be safe, right? Because you'll protect me. That's what you said."

"I... well... yes." She sighed. If I could only read what goes inside her mind, then I'll just leave the situation as to how she likes. But because I don't have that kind of ability, I have to do the usual way-nosing on.

"But I didn't bring any weapon. Did you?" She raised her right brow and looked at me. I shook my head. I lied.

When I was in the kitchen washing my hands after dinner, I took the small kitchen knife and hid it in the pocket of my coat. I'm not sure of any events that might happen, and just a small knife would perhaps save me from sudden murder.

"But I think the knife in your pocket would be a good weapon too," Mugi said, making my pupils dilate. I laid my eyes on my pocket and saw that the knife is kept safe and cannot be seen. But how come Mugi knew that I have a knife?

I reached for the knife in my pocket. There's no more reason to hide it since denying might bring me more burden, especially making pointless reasons. I showed it to Mugi as I came up with a firm explanation.

"Yes, it might be a good use. But I will only use it to peel apples."

I pretended not to look at her and watched the knife glitter on the street light's luminance. Then, I heard her laugh softly.

"You're supposed to eat its peel. It has polyphenols-good for the skin."

I barely didn't show any reaction. I guess, I just have to act accordingly, and things will run smoothly.

"Apples... let's buy then," Mugi said and made a turn to the market. It felt odd. She even chose the apples for me and paid for them. We decided to stay for a while and watched the busy people.

"I can assure you that I've only chosen fresh apples," she smiled and winked.

"They're all fresh, Idiot. That truck just delivered them." I pointed at a delivery truck that had just gotten off.

"Delivering at night, huh?" she wondered.

"Yes. They were handpicked last afternoon and were delivered this time. Tomorrow, they will be sold early."

"I see. How'd you know that?"

"Someone told me."

"Who's that someone?"

I'm annoyed by the continuous question, making me unconsciously draw the knife from my pocket. But I get a hold of it.

"My mom."

I started peeling the apple, and I felt her watch my work.

"We should probably get going, right?" I asked, but she doesn't have the urge to return to the car yet.

"You're still peeling. It'll make a mess inside the van."

Other than "I'll be causing a mess inside the van," there's this other reason why she let me take my time. In any circumstance, I'm still going to that apartment and will never change my mind.

"Your Mom-" she started, "is she still with you?"

She started scratching her right cheek, showing that she might regret it asking.

"What do you mean? Are you asking if she's still alive or if she still cares for me?"

"Both," she quickly replied, "I would like to ask both."

I examined her face for a while. She's quite pouting her lips, and I supposed that she's wishing for something.

"Ah... about that... she's still strong and breathing, but we don't greatly get along."

She looked at the wilderness and commented, "I see." After that, no more questions followed. She took her phone and started reading something from it.

"Ah, done!"

After some few turns, the apple was skinned neat. I've got a little skill when it comes to peeling fruits or veggies. That is one of the least things that I could do in the kitchen.

Mugi stopped scrolling on her phone and took a lead back to the van. That feeling a while ago resumed, but this time, we remained silent and calm.

"I told you, we'll return home safe. Did you even lend me your trust just for a while?"

We're almost near to her old apartment when a sudden serious question slipped from her mouth. Her tone cannot be determined as a positive one, but it's terrifying that it makes me feel like I'm about to be scolded by a senior or be trapped in a web where escape is not possible.

"What was it this time? Did I do something wrong?" I asked, having my forehead creased. She moved the van off the road and parked it on the sideway. It was then that I realized that we'd reached the destination.

Mugi pulled her hands off the wheel. She moved her right arm sideward, approaching my direction. It wasn't raised. It wasn't crawling either. It is just by an exact distance to where my coat's pocket is reachable.

"It's dangerous to put a knife in your pocket," she said, having just a blank expression as she reached for the knife. She held it downward and swung it left and right. "So, tell me. Did you trust me just this once?"

What would it be if I'd given her an unwanted answer? Would she stab me to death or cut my wrist? And why is she asking me about trusting her? Did she think that I'm going to stab her first?

I let go of a quiet laugh. Quieter- but I couldn't get a hold of it. I laughed like how loud I want it to be. The van compresses the noise like an act of pressing a pillow to someone's head just to make it quiet. And then I stopped when satisfied.

"Mugi, I trust you," I said as I wipe the little tears off my eyes, "I trust you since then. I believe in you. You've been true to me. You've been true to anyone else. You just want to help, right? Just like what I always wanted to do. I'm such a pity though-a coward. You always do the work for me."

Mugi coldly looked at me. My laughs that came out from nowhere might be psychotic and absurd. It pissed her off. "Really? Did you believe in me when we were on the bridge?"

"I did, but I just told you what's the real world like and how would you feel about it. But the last, you see, is I'm the one who seeks your advice. You're right, Mugi. I was wrong."

Mugi put the knife on the shelf that is somewhere attached inside the van. And then she said after, "I hate it when you call me like I'm someone else." She got off the van and strolled outside uncalmly.

There's a tension built between us. I'm afraid she didn't buy the words that I spoke a while ago. Curse those uncontrollable laughs. There isn't even anything to laugh about. It's just that Mugi's games were finally debunked. Aren't they? She's obviously telling me now that she's Miyako.

●○ 葬儀の歌 ○●